


beginnings and endings

by tenderwrites



Series: #stzweek [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: #stzweek, Fluff, Shiratorizawa, Team Dynamics, Team Fluff, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-21 00:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14904968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenderwrites/pseuds/tenderwrites
Summary: #stzweek day 1 - training camp/team bondingThe team is all set for yet another one of their training camps, but with the glamor of early morning setters and team routines, there is one thing missing from their ranks: a certain sprightly first year with an infectious enthusiasm.Satori swears that for his first training camp, Tsutomu has made quite the first impression on himself and their coach.





	beginnings and endings

**Author's Note:**

> Shiratorizawa Week is finally here, and I am so goddamn excited to write so much for my beloved swan boys. The first 6 days will be from each third year's point of view, and for the final day, it will be from the team's perspective. 
> 
> The joy in which they have felt for being unbeatable winners for such a long time and the pain in which they have experienced for being defeated - strikes me so much more than other teams, due to the fact that they have to go through such tough training to be victorious. Losing after putting so much time and effort into the sport that they love so much just rips the previous victories out of their hands and makes them rethink about what they could have done better. 
> 
> Anyway, this is the first day and it will be from Satori's perspective! I can't wait to see content on Tumblr and here by other people who share the same sentiments I do of Shiratorizawa.

_stzweek day 1 - training camp/ ~~team bonding~~_

Shiratorizawa.

With its rich history etched in the catacombs of the local museum and the sheer size of their facilities and buildings, the school can be described by many words--prestigious, stuck-up, and even overrated. However, as wild as the all-rounded descriptors go, there is only one thing that cannot be denied.

The academy’s volleyball team has a winning streak that is unbeatable in the early and late stages of Preliminaries, and as stray students walk past the spacious gym that is used for the team’s practice, they can almost hear the faint sounds of sports sneakers scratching against wiped linoleum floors and the grunts of exertion filtering in through the big double doors. Many have stood on their tiptoes, gazing into windows, trying to figure out what sort of new hell goes on behind those doors. Rumors fly, as with the mystery of the team’s routine, and some are far-fetched to the point where the team’s very own eccentric middle blocker guffaws at the ridicule that is being directed towards them.

Honestly, the rumors don’t even make sense sometimes. A training camp to the deep wilderness where they could be attacked by wild beasts? It all sounded like some fairy tale.

Except to the first years, that’s exactly where they were headed. Newly hatched fledglings, or that’s what Satori called them anyway. However, he and the rest of his teammates did their best to put their hearts and minds at ease, because after all, the team was there for one purpose.

Volleyball, and for the redhead, amusement.

He stands near his friends, the cluster of third years that are either double-checking everyone’s belongings or sharing snippets of conversations among themselves. To them, training camps have become part of the system ingrained in their bodies; the tough drills and soul-wrenching exercises are what they would call normal for both the third years and their stubborn coach.

Satori decides to humor himself and stands near Hayato and Eita, whom the former is tapping away at some foreign phone game and the latter is yawning and his eyes appear half-closed. It doesn’t come as a surprise that his best friend would be so listless in the early phases of the morning; in the multiple impromptu sleepovers they shared, the setter was the one who did any _actual_ sleeping. Now, at nearly 6 in the morning, Eita seems to be falling asleep with his arms crossed over his chest and his hair sticking in all directions, which forms a scene of a sleeping bear being poked with a stick.

Except, that scene is not real, and Eita is the sleeping bear being poked by the stick which consists of Satori and his usual antics.

The middle blocker breaks into an amused grin, and as if there is some invisible thread of communication between them, the ash blonde turns around so that his backpack is facing Satori. The manga enthusiast then rummages through Eita’s belongings and successfully pulls out an ionic comb, working his way through his best friend’s unruly curls.

Next, he pulls out a tumbler filled to the brim with coffee, ‘as black as Eita’s soul’, as he coins it. Satori thrusts it into the setter’s hands and he accepts it gratefully, chugging it as if he is a drunkard on alcohol withdrawal. As they are relatively new, the first years watch on with curiosity, but to the rest of the redhead’s friends, this is just another one of the two best friends’ strange routines.

“You know, I could give you a ridiculous hairstyle and you wouldn’t even notice.” Satori chuckles, and is met with a death glare rivaling that even the powerful lightning glare of Naruto and Sasuke.

“And I could murder you in your sleep, Satori. We wouldn’t want that now, _would we?_ ” Eita’s voice has taken on a new energy, so the middle blocker figures that the caffeine is starting to kick in. He smiles sheepishly and gives a shrug of his shoulders, directing his attention towards the two captains at the back of the bus. Jin’s back is hunched and as meticulous as he is, the redhead is sure that there is a permanent mental note of every teammate’s particulars and belongings imprinted in his mind. Beside him stands Wakatoshi, their ever-reliable ace, and his olive eyes are scanning over every piece of equipment they bring for every training camp.

Satori’s mouth itches to break into a wide smile, but he keeps it under wraps and turns to follow the rest of the team boarding the bus instead. With the excitement of yet another training camp and the glamour of possible pranks fresh in his mind, he all but takes one step up the bus when from behind him, Hayato lets out a sudden gasp of realization. Eita nearly trips on the second step due to shock and lets out a string of expletives directed towards the brunette that could hurt their juniors’ _innocent_ minds.

“What is it, Hayato?” Reon asks him, but then the libero breaks the queue and charges towards the back of the bus to scream animatedly at the awaiting captains. As soon as the third year finishes what he has to say, Jin immediately whips out his phone and punches in a few numbers, his hand resting at the hem of his shirt. Satori looks towards Eita, who is already in the bus and the ash blonde gives a dismissive wave, his face already etched with annoyance and understanding.

_Goshiki is missing._

Wakatoshi jogs over to Washijou-sensei to inform him of the events that have unfolded and the old man lets out a sigh of irritation, his own callused hand massaging his temples. Right in the early hours of the morning, and the team already had to deal with complications. Their beloved coach almost reminds the redhead of sleepy Eita, and he holds that thought to fawn over the possibilities of why Tsutomu was running late.

“Why can’t that boy be early for _once_?” The old man lets out a groan that suits his age and Satori nearly breaks into a giggling fit, but Eita elbows him hard and they both hop off the bus to stand apprehensively beside their coach. As comical as the morning has become, the middle blocker is genuinely worried for the next-in-line ace, and according to Eita’s hurried foot tapping, Hayato’s fidgeting and Reon’s furrowed eyebrows, his friends are equal parts distressed as he is. As responsible third years, it is their job to look after their first and second years when they go for competitions and trips. Unaccounted teammates only serve to add to the stress of it all, and the redhead notices it all with his eagle eyes.

Satori, in his quest to lift the third years’ spirits, sets down his backpack on the ground and fumbles through snacks, his mess of a sketchbook and some manga to pull out his dog-eared notebook. In it is recollections of memories that have been shared by the third years in Shiratorizawa, and as he fondly flips through the book littered with stickers and post-its, his friends start to gather round his makeshift photo gallery.

“...Satori, why do you have a photo of me smiling in here?” Wakatoshi points towards a somewhat blurred picture of the ace’s famous smile, framed by the rays of sunshine trickling in through the windows of the gym and the soft oranges and browns of the environment make for quite the memorable scene. The wing spiker seems surprised, what with his upturned eyes and confused frown, but this photo comes as reminiscent to the rest of his friends. The aforementioned third year grins mysteriously and covers the embarrassing photo with the page after it.

His question goes unanswered for the sake of sworn secrecy, and their eyes focus on the next page. This particular page is Satori’s favorite; it is on the verge of overflowing from seashells and stray trinkets from the beach. He remembers feeling like an overcooked lobster right on that humid day, where ludicrous amounts of ice cream were eaten and heartfelt conversations were shared. Despite questions of the future and the fear of the unknown lingering in between scraps of silence, the sense of belonging they all felt would never be doused, as with the camaraderie they shared right when they had all met each other in the spacious recesses of the gym.

And of course, the absolute joy he felt when he successfully buried all of _Eita_ in the sand was an added bonus, but no one dares to breathe of the events that transpired after sundown, much to Satori’s chagrin. It was a memory worth bringing up every once in a while in his book, so he feels wronged.

Not one minute after they had arrived at that _one_ page, they hear the distant pants of a running Tsutomu by the gate, him running up to greet Washijou-sensei and his exasperated but relieved seniors.

“Where did you go, Goshiki?” Reon puts a reassuring hand on the first year’s heaving shoulders, and waits for him to catch his breath and respond with the answer that will inevitably make Eita throw his hands up in frustration and impatience at the same time.

“I was...helping an old lady cross the street! She was having a bit of trouble with her groceries too, so I…” Satori’s hand makes a mess of the boy’s bowl cut with his friendly pats and the first year grins sheepishly, his whole frame shaking with nervous anticipation for what their coach will say next. Washijou-sensei shifts from one foot to the other, his fingers tapping over the fabric of his sweater as he contemplates what kind of advice he should give this time.

“...Tsutomu, if you encounter such a situation next time, remember to inform your seniors. Making them worry is irresponsible of you.” The third years stare incredulously at their coach as he dismisses Tsutomu’s outright lateness with a wave of his hand and boards the bus with Saitou-sensei trailing after him with an array of confused words tumbling from his mouth. Then, there is contagious laughter spilling from Hayato and the rest of them either shake their heads in acceptance or let out a sigh or two, before embarking on their journey towards their awaiting training camp.

With the mild inconvenience of the first year running late now out of the way, the bus sets off for their destination, the academy gradually making way for the familiar scenic view that Satori has grown to love and cherish. The trees and the occasional traffic that roll by his window shared by both him and Eita acts as a screen to the outside world. As birds start to wake up and greet the sun resting by the horizon line, the redhead abandons all desires of wanting to catch up on manga and rests his head on his hand.

Eita takes one look at the reminiscent expression on his best friend’s face, and his features contort into one that of understanding. It is moments like these that Satori wishes to be left alone with his thoughts, however exaggerated they may be in his best friend’s opinion. He projects himself as a boy full of sunshine and rainbows, but sometimes, the sunshine needs to show up someplace else. That, the setter figures, culminates in the form of his very own back rubs and soft tones reserved solely for the aftermath of Satori’s intermittent night horrors. He sinks further into his seat and relaxes, resting his arm on his best friend’s thigh for added comfort should the boy ever need it.

“Eita?”

“Hm?” The setter’s eyes are closed, but his ears have Satori’s full attention.

“Let’s go buy a new notebook after this camp.”

“...Yeah, sure.”

As the conversation between them comes to a standstill, Satori is gradually taken by the warm embraces of sleep, and he has sweet dreams of the places that they could visit and capture memories together in.

Maybe, if only for a little while, he could hide these memories in his notebooks, forever encased in a state of remembrance and fond reminiscence. 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  



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